Pulse
by MontyTheDog
Summary: They couldn't expect him to just let her go.
1. The Beginning of His End

"Deeks," Kensi groaned. He mumbled something unintelligible in response, rolling to his side and snoring. She pushed herself onto her side with wide eyes and shoved him. "Deeks!"

"Yeah?" He finally mumbled, still half asleep. "Whatsits?" he slurred.

She placed her hand on her stomach, fear pooling in her mismatched irises. "I think my water broke."

"What?" Suddenly alert, he forced himself to a sitting position. "Are you sure?"

"I think but you know, this is kind of my first time."

Deeks ignored her sarcasm, placing his hand over hers which was still clutching at her abdomen. "That's- But you're not due for another month."

"Well why don't you tell that to the stomach monster you're fathering."

"Okay." Deeks raked a hand through his mop of blond hair. "Okay." Now extremely conscious, he jumped out of bed and started throwing various items into a duffle bag. "Oh my God. Oh my God."

"Deeks, calm the hell down. You're not the one about to give birth."

"No, but I am the one fathering that stomach mon-" Without warning, Kensi gripped the edge of the mattress with one hand and cradled her right side with the other, scrunching her eyes shut and biting her lip in pain. Deeks rushed to her side and let her grip his hand, worried orbs following the length of her robe-clad body. "Kens…"

"I'm fine," she managed to squeak, never opening her eyes.

Deeks' eyes never left her, concern etching itself more prominently into his features. "I'm calling an ambulance."

"No you're not," she stated simply, locking his hand in a death grip.

Deeks asked himself (not for the first time) why Kensi had to be so damned stubborn. Instead of arguing, he held his arm around her waist, leading her to their car. Her face was pale in the dim eleven o'clock p.m. light, contorted in pain, looking so oddly out of place on her usually serene features. He squeezed the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles turned white, other hand crushing his cell phone.

Surprisingly enough, the phone was answered on the first ring. "Mr. Deeks?"

"Hetty…"

* * *

The car ride seemed to take hours, days. Considering the speed Deeks was driving it probably only took ten minutes at most. If the car ride lasted forever, the events that happened after he'd urgently rushed to the front counter and practically screamed incoherent gibberish at the nurse that sat behind the glass window took seconds. One minute a terrified Kensi was at his side, tugging at his arm, the next she was rushed away by a multitude of doctors and nurses, an antiseptic odor following the stethoscopes, clipboards, wheelchair.

"Deeks…" It was just a breath, a tiny request, vulnerable, escaping off of her trembling lips. It was all he needed.

After a moments shock, he darted after Kensi, cumbersomely breaking the crowd of white linen. The top of her wheelchair was a slick cool against his clumsy, nervous fingers. "Everything's going to be fine." It was just as much directed at her as it was towards him. They both needed the reassurance.

He could make out words that were enough to traumatize him, ranging from premature to preeclampsia. The doctor's voices were a wave of jumbled confusion and haste, and when a small voice called "Mr. Deeks," he hardly recognized it as not belonging to one of the doctors.

Turning to look over his shoulder he saw Hetty standing stiffly in the hallways that could only be described as clean. "Hetty…"

He hurried over to her, wanting to stay caught up with Kensi. "Everything is going to be alright," Hetty promised, her voice coming out quickly. "The rest of the team is on their way. I told Nell to pick up a bag for the baby from your house."

He remembered the duffle he'd packed not even a half hour ago and left disregarded in the bedroom. _Hetty saves the day once again_. "Now go, quickly," Hetty ordered. "I'll be here, I promise."

"Thank you." It seemed insufficient, but in his distraught state it was all he could manage. "Thanks," he called one more time over his shoulder before following the array of medics.

* * *

They'd hooked her up to machines, monitors, I.V.s and tubes, all apparently one hundred percent necessary. He'd sat at her side for two hours, only moving to occasionally stroke her hand with his thumb. He was once again subconsciously trailing his finger over hers when her eyelids wrinkled and her head moved slightly to the side.

"Deeks?" she murmured, slowly raising her shoulders up to loosen them and trying not to disturb her aching stomach.

"I'm here, right here," Deeks replied, stroking back her dark hair from that gorgeous face of hers.

"We have to talk."

"Mhm," Deeks said with a microscopic smile. "The four words no man wants to hear."

Kensi rolled her eyes with a grin. "Yeah, well. I don't blame you for not liking them. They usually aren't that great for girls either." She looked down, sighing sadly. "Listen, Deeks. You love me, right?"

"Yeah…" Deeks said cautiously, back going rigid as alarm bells went off in his head.

"And you love our baby?"

"Of course," Deeks insisted immediately without a moment's hesitation.

"Then you have to promise me something."

Deeks mulled it over in his head before nodding slowly. "Okay, anything."

"If anything… happens-"

Deeks interrupted her before she could continue, saying defiantly, "Nothing's going to happen."

She looked far away, distant. "Well, if something does happen," she began again, never looking up from their intertwined hands, "and you get into the predicament where you have to choose, choose the baby, okay?"

Frozen, Deeks felt his hand go limp in hers. "Please?" she begged, tears in her voice.

"I- I can't." The honesty pulled tears from her eyes, making them track down her cheeks.

"I swear to God Deeks, if you don't-"

"I don't care what you'll do if I don't!" Deeks snapped. "Nothing, nothing is worse than losing you."

"Even losing your own flesh and blood instead?"

He hated how horrible it made him sound, but he said it anyways. "We could try again…"

Kensi closed her mismatched eyes as a tear streaked down her cheek. She turned her head.

"Kens." Half a beg, half a strangled, throaty cry. It danced out of his lips, leaving his mouth shaking in a numb sort of way.

"I… I…" the words died in her throat, evaporating on her tongue.

He hated seeing her cry. It broke his heart right down the middle. Deeks leaned his forehead against the palms of his clammy hands, hands usually so strong, comforting, now nothing more than useless, uncontrollable limbs that quaked as if they had a mind of their own. He ran a hand through his golden locks, once again entwining their fingers, never wanting to let go.

She stared at him desperately, eyes sad enough to make his chest ache. She opened her mouth to say something, maybe finish her earlier thought that'd ended in "I…", but before she could she gasped in pain, squeezing his fingers. Those sad eyes became detached and overcome in what appeared to be unearthly agony. It seemed as if every machine in the room beeped.

"Oh my God, Kensi." He was on his feet in a matter of seconds, standing at her side, screaming for nurses and doctors that were already on their way, alerted by the machines.

She said the one thing that she thought was the most important. It was barely audible, a strangled groan, but Deeks comprehended it. "I love you."

The tears he'd been holding back throughout the whole catastrophe chose that exact moment to make themselves known and escape from his baby blues, bubbling over his lids before he could stop them. He sniffed, wiped them away furiously. "I love you too."

* * *

The rest of the team had been there for a while, but Deeks hadn't made a conceited effort to talk to anybody other than grumbling a crisp "Thanks," when Callen handed him coffee. He only drank it to keep him awake, needing the caffeine, but the liquid sat in his stomach, sloshing around and making him nauseous.

Nobody offered an "Everything's going to be okay" or tried to offer moral support, not that Deeks cared. It was better this way, sitting anxiously in a far too sanitized room, imposing lights of the hospital beaming down and exposing every bag under every eye, every wrinkle in everyone's forehead.

It was another moment in the span of twenty four hours that could have been an hour, could have been an eternity, waiting. Eventually a doctor stood at the door and called Deeks' name, "Deeks, Martin."

Not a Mr. Deeks. Not Martin. Deeks-comma-Martin. It frustrated the fuck out of him.

Deeks walked mechanically to the doctor, running a hand nervously through his shaggy gold down. The man ushered him in, telling him to take a seat. Deeks remained standing.

The doctor sighed; it was obvious he'd seen one too many distraught husbands, fiancés, and boyfriends in his day. Deeks looked him square in the eye and asked in a monotone, "Is she dead?"

The doctor had the decency to appear somewhat sympathetic, or at least pretend to appear to be. He'd probably had years of practice, Deeks told himself. For some reason Deeks couldn't exactly place, this doctor pissed him off.

"I'm not going to lie; the chances of Kensi surviving at the rate it's looking now are not good. I'm sorry. If we performed an emergency C-section now it would kill Kensi, but your child would survive. If we don't do something now, the odds of Kensi living are still slim, a one in one hundred chance. The child would die."

Deeks felt the weight of the world crash onto his shoulders as the burden of what the doctor was asking him to do crashed down on him.

"I wish I could give you some time to think it over, but Kensi's hardly hanging in there. I know it's a nearly impossible decision to make-"

Deeks interrupted him. "You're right; it's a fucking impossible decision to make."

"Now, I know this is hard-"

"You have no idea what I'm going through." Deeks' resentment towards the doctor bubbled in his blood, making his skin prick and crawl.

The doctor's pager beeped. He looked down at it, ignoring the daggers being directed at him by the tan blond man. The doctor exhaled roughly. "I'm sorry to tell you this, but your fiancé just passed away. If we perform the C-section now, the baby will most likely survive. We need your consent as soon as possible."

Deeks couldn't breathe. His chest constricted in pain, blind spots filled his vision. Every kiss, every hug, every time they'd made love passed before his eyes. He fell against the wall, throwing his hand in front of him just in time to catch him before he slammed full force against the plaster. Her eyes were all he could see for the longest of moments, her lips all he could feel, her sweet laugh filling his ears, making his heart hurt. A choked sob escaped from some painful place in his throat as he remembered the first time they met in that gym, the way she knew something was off about him. When she'd said yes. He remembered the laser-filled room, him pulling her to safety. The first time she'd said "I love you". The last.

"Please," the doctor said urgently. "Should we do the surgery or not?"

Then Deeks' remembered her telling him that she was pregnant, how happy she'd been, how proud. Kensi Blye a mother. They'd joke, say it was a scary thought. Really, it was a beautiful, surreal thought. A too-good-to-be-true idea. Apparently it really was too good to be true.

But that child in Kensi's stomach (dead stomach, he thought before he could stop himself) was all he had left.

And he loved it.

Deeks looked up at the doctor, grief evident in his every crevice because Kensi was supposed to be that one percent. She always was before, why was this any different? He pushed those thoughts aside for the moment, finality in his tone. "Save my child."

As the doctor darted out of the room, Deeks had the sudden urge to scream. Or sob hysterically. Or both. He settled for turning around and punching the plaster, embracing the pain that shot through his knuckles. Swatting angrily at a tear, he fell against the wall, sliding down and pulling his knees to his chest.

"Kensi" and "dead" didn't fit in the same sentence together. Separately, they were perfectly fine. Together, foreign. He thought of her face, her body, her beautiful eyes. How strong she was. _How dead she was._

Deeks slammed his head against the wall. The only thing suppressing him from screaming was the fact that people would hear him and come to see what was wrong. The last thing he wanted to do was to see anyone.

What would happen when he couldn't remember where the freckle on her shoulder was? The way she smelled? The sound of her laugh? Already they seemed distant memories, memories he had to dig to find. He buried his head in his hands as sobs wracked his body. Painful, heart wrenching tears shook his chest as he recalled the last time they'd made love. She was exquisite in every way, and when he'd asked her to marry him she was truly the only girl he could ever intimately see himself with for the rest of his life.

He took a deep breath, trying unsuccessfully to control himself. The team was waiting for news in the room just through the door he sat next to, probably sick with worry. _They're going to be a lot sicker when I tell them about Kensi._

His body hurt as he pulled himself to his feet. Everything felt like a bad dream. All he had to do now was wake up.

Seeing everyone's hopeful eyes meet his as he entered the waiting room was nearly enough to make him turn around. He could feel the liquid burning behind his eyes as he plopped into his seat, once again forcing his head into his hands. "She… she didn't make it."

He heard a chocked cry escape what sounded like Nell's throat and a collective gasp from everybody else. His breath hitched, his eyes squeezed shut in his hands, his body shook. _This must be hell. This has to be hell._

_She's gone._ The bitter sweet insults, gone. All of those damned Twinkies, gone. Those gorgeous, sparkling irises, gone. The feisty Kensi Marie Blye was never coming back, the shell of her body would forever lie six feet under.

"The… the baby?" a shaky, tear ridden voice asked. Deeks looked up to see Nell, face damp, leaning against a shocked Eric for support.

_The baby._ Kensi telling him that she was pregnant had been the scariest thing he'd ever heard in his life. But then again, he'd been thrilled. Ecstatic. He loved kids, and if theirs would be anything like Kensi, then it would be pretty damn perfect.

"I think it will be okay."

And he did. It would be premature, motherless, and alive. They'd both be alive.

They were supposed to do this together. He'd always wanted a child, but when it came to raising one he'd barely even changed a diaper before. Kensi had been just as dysfunctional as him, but he figured they would've made a damn good team. _Not that I'll ever know._

He heard somebody approaching him but couldn't see because his eyes were once again in his hands. His ears sensed somebody's body adjusting itself in the chair next to him. A small hand was placed gently on his hunched over back, and a tiny, quivering voice found his ear. "Everything is going to be alright, Marty."

He turned to look into Hetty's eyes, tears in his cerulean orbs. "How? How can everything possibly be okay? Nothing will _ever _be okay."

He wasn't trying to be melodramatic; he was placing his fears into her small hands. She rubbed his back soothingly, a maternal gesture that he so needed. "That child may have lost a mother, but it gained an aunt, three uncles, a grandmother, and a father who loves it very much."

_Kensi would've loved it too. Unconditionally. _But he didn't say that. Instead he stared at his palms which were pressed against his eyes, trying to block out the world for just a second.

He couldn't even have that moment, however, because a nurse called his name not even a minute later. "Mr. Deeks?" It was a feminine, old voice. It pulled him back into painful reality.

He rose to his feet, not feeling his limbs move beneath him. The elderly lady smiled, somewhat sadly. Just somewhat. "I'd like for you to meet someone."

The team followed his every move, ten eyes following his body until the door shut behind him. He followed the nurse to a hallway with a huge glass window peering into the lone room with tiny little cribs filling it. Only one baby was in the large space, a lone pink hat in sea of emptiness.

"There she is," the nurse said, smiling. "Four pounds and two ounces. All of her vitals look good. She should be out of here in a few weeks."

Deeks' nose nearly touched the glass as he peered in. "She's tiny."

"You got lucky. Most thirty four week olds are around three and a half pounds."

Deeks' fingers landed against the glass, his eyes never left the child. "You're welcome to go and see her," the nurse said gently. She walked away, leaving Deeks completely alone in the intoxicatingly bare hallway.

Deeks took a deep breath and walked up to the little bed, staring down into his child's face. Her fair hair peeked out from under her striped hat, and her body was swaddled in a blanket. Tubes brought air to her nose, the calm rise and fall of her chest rhythmic. He reached out a trembling finger, gently touched her face. She twitched beneath his hand, little fists reaching for his index, latching on to his finger.

His chest constricted and his eyes watered. "Oh God," he choked out.

This was supposed to be happy, he knew. His soul felt dead, the life ahead of him appeared joyless. He didn't have the right to smile down at his daughter, not without Kensi by his side.

Death could even take a beautiful moment like this and completely turn it upside down. As he peered down at his perfect baby girl he asked through unstable lips, "God, why me?"


	2. Barely

Deeks stared at the bottle in his hands, searching once again for a reason to drop it. Since the funeral he hadn't been the same. The team dropped by occasionally, checking in on him, probably making sure he hadn't committed suicide yet.

Bringing the bottle to his lips, he took a long, shallow swig. The alcohol burned his throat on the way down. He was used to it. He drummed his fingers against the half empty bottle, stared across the small room at the dark mahogany crib that held his sleeping daughter. Kensi had tried to make the nursery absolutely perfect, and she'd succeeded. It was homey, comforting, cozy. It hurt Deeks. Too many memories.

He'd never be able to drink her off his mind. No amount of alcohol could make those damn haunting eyes vanish from the back of his eyelids. He felt branded with her presence, dragged it along as if she was a tattoo.

It was exactly a week since they'd returned from the hospital. Exactly three since they'd lowered her coffin into the damp, dark ground. He remembered how much of a coward he'd been, the way he'd turned his head as the casket was put underneath the grass, the soil Kensi's only company from that day on.

His eyes looked straight ahead of him, at Kensi's emotionless shadow. She was like Kensi's dead body that Deeks had left in the morgue, except this _thing_ walked around. Never saying anything, never really leaving. This wasn't the way Kensi would have wanted herself remembered, Deeks knew, but he couldn't get the images of her stone cold corpse out of his head, the vibrancy vacuumed from her pretty face.

He tried to remember Kensi's wittiness, the waterfall of chocolate that surrounded her face, framing her high cheek bones, the dark of her right eye. Every time he tried to think of her as the striking woman she was, inside and out, the dead fogged his memories, turning both Kensi's eyes a dull black, making her hair a drained, mousy color, skin an ugly grey.

Deeks took another swig. It was like a bad drinking game, he'd muse. _Drink every time you let her slip away from you a little more. _

He looked at the framed picture of Kensi and him standing over the crib, watching over the napping child. Kensi, white teeth exposed, Deeks, arm around her waist in a lazy, carefree fashion. Back when things weren't so complicated.

He only admitted that he blamed himself when he was extremely drunk. He got her pregnant, therefore he killed her. He murdered Kensi. The thought was enough to rip his heart out of his chest.

What he wouldn't give for one last kiss. The feel of her hand on his stubble, the rough of callouses on bare legs, smooth and warm with the sun. _Another swig._

Suddenly and very unexpectedly, something amazing happened. The walking dead version of Kensi seemed to blossom in front of him, her face becoming full with exuberance before his azul irises. He reached out a hand, trying to touch her face, letting a tiny "Kens?" escape from his lips. When his hand passed straight through her dead body he choked on his disappointed tears. Kensi didn't say a word, but her message was clear. First she glanced at her daughter, then back at Deeks, placing her slender fingers on the bottle of whiskey that he still gripped in one hand. Just as soon as she'd came, she was gone.

Deeks felt dampness on his hand as he reached towards his eyes. He took one good look at the bottle, walked into the living room, slammed it against another picture of Kensi and him looking too damn happy. He watched the frame and the bottle shatter, wanted to grab a piece of the fallen glass and split his throat open.

He didn't. It took a lot of strength, but he didn't. Instead he forced his inebriated body back into the nursery, peered at the little girl who was cooing as if she was about to wake up. He steadied himself on the crib, swallowed; watched as she slowly opened her dark blue eyes that carried the unbelievable potential to turn into Kensi's eyes, Kensi's alive eyes.

He reached down for the baby, cradling her head in his hands, wrapping his arms around her body securely. "It's okay, Daddy's got you," he assured her, rocking her gently. He held her against his chest, wincing at the tear that escaped his eye, leaving a burning path down his cheek. Kensi would've wanted him to be there for her, he knew. Hell, she told him in her few last words to save their daughter under any circumstances.

And he had, though he hadn't been given the proper chance to choose. It scared him to think that this little girl lying in his arms wouldn't be alive if it would've been up to him. He asked himself, though it sickened him, would he be happier if it'd been the other way around? And he hated himself because he was almost one hundred percent certain that even though he loved his child very _very _much, things would be different if Kensi were with him.

But those thoughts didn't matter now, he would remind himself. Kensi was never coming back; running through "what if" scenarios wasn't going to change anything. Anything.

He gently rubbed the baby's back as she curled her fist around his shirt. Kensi use to do that.

* * *

Knock. Knock. Knock. Knock. "Open up, Deeks." Knock. Knock.

"Not Jehovah's Witnesses again," Deeks yelled back, though it didn't carry his usual humorous undertone.

"How do you know I'm not an Avon lady?"

"An Avon lady wouldn't know my name," Deeks responded dryly, trying to make Nell leave.

"Neither would a Jehovah's Witness."

"Touché."

_Touché, touché, you cannot touch my touché. _The strength of the memory knocked the breath out of his chest, and he had to tighten his grip on the baby to make sure he didn't drop her.

"Just come in," he said, defeated, not having the will to fight anymore.

As soon as Nell was through the door, she wrinkled her nose. "God, it stinks in here. Is that some sort of alcohol?"

"No, it's diet coke." His sarcasm was so severe Nell couldn't tell if he was joking or not. She dropped it almost immediately however, walking up to Deeks with a small smile.

"I see you got the whole feeding thing down."

Deeks removed the now empty bottle from the little girl's mouth before turning her so he could burp her. "Barely."

"Can I hold her?" Nell was practically begging, beaming at the little girl with sad hazel eyes.

Deeks sighed as he passed the now full baby to Nell. "Guess so. Be careful with her head."

Nell held his child in her arms, sniffling. "She… she has Kensi's eyes."

Deeks swallowed, determined not to break down in front of her. He looked away from Nell, only managing a shaky, "Yeah."

"Hey, Maddie. I'm your Aunt Nell," Nell told the little girl, wiping a tear away from her eyes with one hand as she carefully held the baby with her other. She looked at Deeks, all traces of even attempting to put a happy face on for him gone. "You're doing a good job, Deeks. Kensi… Kensi would be proud of you."

Deeks looked away from Nell and Maddie, wanting a shot of something strong. Ever since Kensi had showed up that day not nearly as dead as usual, he'd been okay about keeping sober. For himself, for Kensi's memory, for his daughter. He placed his head in his hands as he felt his eyes water.

"I- I just wanted to see her. She's perfect, Deeks. Really, she is." Nell handed Maddie back to Deeks, trying very obviously to suppress a sniffle. "Hang in there. I'll be back soon, I just can't-" She paused, looking for the right word to complete her sentence, tears welling in her eyes. "I can't."

She turned around quickly to leave, trying to escape before she had an emotional breakdown. He could see her body shaking as she walked out of the door, crossed the terrain to her car. His body was now trembling, and he didn't trust himself to hold Maddie. A baby blanket was spread out on the floor, so he placed her on top of it, trying not to look at her dark eyes that mimicked her mother's already.

He buried his head in a throw pillow, muffling his scream. Every aspect of his body hurt, like the anguish radiating from his heart could spread throughout his body, making a constant, dull ache fill his everything. Maddie wined a little at the sound of his scream, so he lowered himself on the ground next to her, pulled himself up on one side of his body, let her take his thumb in her tiny hand.

He watched her feet kick at nothing, wondering if that was what she'd been doing in Kensi's stomach for eight months. Every little nudge to Kensi's abdomen her eyes would light up, she'd call Deeks over, place her hand over his on her swollen tummy. Deeks would smile at her, sometimes peck her lips, stroke her hair, place a kiss on her cheek or belly, whatever felt right.

Letting their daughter latch onto his finger without Kensi around didn't feel _right _at all. But then again, nothing felt right since she'd died. He wondered if there would always be a void like the one he felt taking up half of his heart in his life, afraid he knew that the answer was yes, there would be.

* * *

Maddie's crying pulled him out of his catnap. He hadn't been able to get a deep night's sleep since Kensi'd died. Every time he tried he dreamt of Kensi's haunting dead face staring at him, eyes unseeing, body stiff.

Deeks shook his head, willing away those thoughts. _Dammit, Deeks. Keep it together._ He'd never been overemotional before, now suddenly wave after wave of tears was normal for him.

He drug himself into his little girl's room, carefully picked up Maddie. "Hey baby." He changed her diaper, fed her, gave her her favorite pacifier. Still she screamed and wailed, little face scrunched up with tears.

_I've had my fair share of tantrums; guess it's her turn now. _He patted her back, cooed soothing words into her little ears, reassured her everything was okay even though it wasn't. When the crying didn't seize he carried her to his bedroom, laid her down on the sheets, racked his brain for what could be making her cry. He drew a blank, knowing Maddie probably wanted the same thing he did; Kensi.

He sighed, pulled of his shirt, remembering the doctors telling him something about skin to skin contact. He watched as Maddie's little body curled up against his chest, her hand reaching up at his face, grabbing at his shaggier than usual hair.

"_You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when the skies are grey,_" Deeks sang, humming the tune gently into her ear. He vaguely remembered his mother holding him, Dad hungover in the room opposite from where they'd sit. She'd hold him, crooning into his ear the familiar tune. "_You'll never know, dear, how much I love you, so please don't take my sunshine away._"

He swallowed back tears as he remembered the second verse of the tune, "_The other night, dear, as I lay sleeping, I dreamed I held you in my arms. When I awoke, dear, I was mistaken-_"

His voice trailed off, the last part of the song evaporating in his throat. He glanced down at the now sleeping little girl in his arms, banged his head against the headboard of his bed. "Kensi, I miss you," he cried out loud, wanting her to magically reincarnate and appear in his arms. He couldn't bear the thought that he'd never see Kensi again, couldn't fathom it, tolerate it. It made him want to die, made him ache for death.

He looked down at Maddie, kissed her head. "I love you." He scooped her into his arms, laid her gently down in her crib, closed the door.

Handwriting shaky, pen wobbling in his grasp, he began:

_Dear Maddie,  
When you read this, I hope you'll be able to understand that you deserve better than the mess of the father I would've been if I'd stuck around. I'm sorry that you had to end up in the middle of this whole catastrophe, and I want you to know that I take full responsibility for everything.  
I know that the team's taking good care of you. I also want you to know your mother and I will be looking out for you, even if you don't see us.  
You probably hate me. If you don't, you should.  
I love you.  
-Daddy_

He walked outside, shut the door behind him, walked to the ocean. Kensi had picked their house out, a small beachside bungalow, private, just big enough for a family of three. He felt the sand squish between his shoeless toes, the cool of the sig in his hand.

He wondered if there was a life after death as he stepped into the salty water, just to were his feet could feel the tide wash over them. Wondered if he would have any chance of making it to "the good side". He doubted it. After all, he was just a coward looking for an easy way out.

His limbs were all trembling so violently he could hardly keep hold of the nine mm in his right hand, his trigger hand. Slowly, tears escaping his eyes, he brought the gun to his temple, ready to squeeze his finger around the death switch, end the living hell of his life.

He looked back at the house, caught a glimpse of his bedroom. He remembered the first night Kensi and him had moved in, when there'd been nothing but a mattress in the room. The way he'd pulled her down on top of him, the feel of her lips as she'd rendered him breathless, her skin hot against his as she'd undressed him, hovering over her body, passionate. The living room was on the opposite side of the house, and countless pillow fights, cuddling on the couch sessions, movie after movie with her tangled in his arms passed before his eyes in a split second. He remembered Kensi burning something or another in the kitchen, setting off the fire alarm for the umpteenth time, him taking over the cooking, smiling as she'd snake his arms around his waist while he was tending food on the stove, her lips on his neck, the mother of all distractions. And she'd expected him to cook with her wrapped around him like that.

His eyes skimmed over the house one last time, and he pressed the barrel harder against his temple. His irises landed on Maddie's room. Before he could stop himself, he visualized his perfect daughter, thought of her body against his bare chest, her hand around his finger, her gorgeous eyes staring up at him.

He let out a bloodcurdling scream, yelling at nothing and everything. Chucking the gun as far as he could into the ocean before he could change his mind, he collapsed into the cool water, bathed himself in sand and salt. He let the tide wash over him, wishing it would take his sorrow away with the waves, cast them far into the Pacific.

Even without Kensi, his lover, partner, best friend, fiancé, he couldn't just leave their daughter. It wasn't fair. It wasn't. Half of his heart was being pulled towards Kensi, the other finding its way back to little Maddie lying asleep in her bedroom, oblivious to the all of the pain of the outside world.

He pulled his knees to his chest, tucking his head between them. Looking up at the sky, he whispered, "I love you, Kens."

That would never change.

**FIN**

* * *

**Been in an angsty mood. Bet you couldn't tell.  
This was originally supposed to be a one shot, but thanks to the awesome feedback from the first chapter I figured I'd do one more, just to satisfy everyone's shipper hearts. And to all of the people who said they were crying, I'm glad. MWAHAHA! I know I'm evil. Evil is, after all, my middle name.  
XOXO-  
Cierra**


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